Depression
by Zoomer Slick
Summary: I had been interviewed by someone whilst in public. They asked me for my stance on depression. I gave them this. There was no other category so I chose this niche one, hoping the bill fits. If this gets taken down, so be it, but I won't regret putting it up. Rated T just for safe measure.


Sometimes you never see it coming. Other times you embrace it with welcome and open arms, knowing it's the only choice you have supported by your peers. Your self worth crumbles and lays compressed under a thick wall of self loathing and dark visions of what life would be like with you removed from the picture. Every attempt you make to remedy the piss poor feeling of utter nothingness completely backfires and ultimately turns you against yourself moreso than before. You distance yourself from those you care about, or those who you thought cared. They seek you out far less and less until you're left completely alone. Every shoulder you had to lean on and every wall erected for a form of support shatters and dissipates into a cloud, of which you fall right through and make contact with all the detrimental thoughts you thought you had rid of. In a panic you start to include yourself with a group of people who only recognize your presence and nothing else. Any form of recognition fills your heart with a bit of hope, but you quickly realize your position, and the light illuminating a future of possibility fizzles out. It's a cycle of balance, light and darkness cancelling each other out, leaving you within a gray area of nothing. No intrusive thoughts, no happy encounters. Just a solid void with nothing for it to encompass or fill. You now give yourself an opportunity to analyze your feelings.

 _ **Are you happy where you are?**_ No. You're satisfied; having too much faith in someone or something, only to have it become the opposition becomes commonplace. You come to accept your place in a state of dystopian purgatory. The suffering remains but the possibility of heavenspawn to take you up no longer exists. You lie to others telling them you're OK, or concoct a bullshit excuse not to spend time around them. You lie to yourself, saying you're better off alone, and they don't need you as another squeaky wheel dragging them down. Against more logical judgement you push away any and all forms of contact presented to you. You defend your actions with a dense shield of dishonesty and desperation.

 _ **Do you feel appreciated?**_ You can't answer that. You sure feel alone and convince yourself nobody cares, but you can't be certain if you don't hear it from who you used to associate with. You've been on your own for so long you forget just how much of an impact the words from someone else really affect you. Afraid of the truth, you run away from it, denying any and all form of appreciation tossed your way. You lullaby yourself with your own lies and make your peers suffer and worry for your sake; but you can't help it. In your world of self-righteousness, you feel your actions pose a form of benefit to everyone else around you, no longer cursed with your presence and your soul. Instead, your absence heightens the spirit of those around you, no longer sandbagged down by your toxic radiating thoughts.

 _ **Would the world be better off without me?**_ You neglect yourself as a temporary way to appease the ever expanding globe. You starve, you sleep, you cut, you don't care. Your day to day routine shifts into a gigantic non-linear line of chaos. You rebel against those who you think are trying to belittle you. You lash out against the elders who see right through your bullshit antics and tell you to suck it up. You break down in front of the mirror and stare back at a shell of yourself. Defenseless against a barrage of tormenting memories and epiphanies, tears stream down your cheeks and fall ceremoniously down your face, as you face the floor in shame of your current actions. During your self-loathing reverie, you glance back up to see an entirely new person. The once stoic and unreadable body language disintegrates into an arthritic like arched back stance as the bags under your eyes grow larger and darker as the stress from keeping this charade up becomes physically taxing. Your bloodshot eyes contains thousands of unspoken words ready to be heard.

 _ **What purpose do I serve?**_ You get up, go to school, come home, work, go to bed. That cycle remains to be your sole reasoning to keep going. Such a shallow end goal is all you have left to rely on for accomplishment. Your academics suffer from your lack of care, and the teachers who once would stand behind the work you created now scoff at the ghost of yourself taking the reins. You find solace in the fact the simple tasks that need to be completed you get praised for. You use online programs to do the work for you, as the trust you have in your own abilities dwindles and shrinks into a sliver, protecting itself from use. In projects for groups, you take it upon yourself to do the extra amounts of work, so you find yourself appreciated for something you did. The infantile thought process that directs your brash and impulsive reasoning cannot be won over by common sense of a form of logic. You've let that beast grow too strong and too dependent on bad behavior and less than adequate actions. The end result is your elated sense of belonging as you receive thanks and applaud for the work you did, that nobody else had to. But to you, none of that matters, as long as you get positive attention.

Depression is a parasite. It slowly leeches away your life force until you find yourself unable to find a reason why you exist and what future you have.

Sometimes, I feel depressed. But it's best not to say so. Otherwise I become berated for being an attention whore, and one to make such a preposterous claim without displaying any signs of it.

It's just the way the soul crumbles I guess.


End file.
